


Who once was a boy

by goldenzingy46



Category: Harry Potter - JK Rowling
Genre: Creature Harry Potter, Dark Harry Potter, Demon Harry Potter, Evil Harry Potter, Oneshot, entered into writing competition:), not human Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenzingy46/pseuds/goldenzingy46
Summary: Harry Potter: just a boy. Or is he? Oneshot.





	Who once was a boy

Harry stood over the corpse of Voldemort. Something was so... displaced. Like something holding him down was being freed, like he had last felt as he sat down on the stool for the Sorting Hat all those years ago, prepared to be sorted into any house before he changed his mind. His eyes were lightening from the deep green they were to the exact colour of the killing curse...

Then he blinked —

—and he was somewhere else, his body wasn’t his, yet it was all at the same time.

“Potter, Harry!”

He walked up to the stool, no longer the shy, scared child under binds, but this thing, the destroyer of Voldemort, a murderer, the undead. That’s who he was, and he wasn’t afraid any more.

He placed the hat on his head.

“Back again, Mr Potter?”

He didn’t even get a chance to speak before the hat yelled, “SLYTHERIN!”

And as he rose, he smiled. Yet it wasn’t a nice smile. This smile was all teeth, large and long and sharp and pointed. The smirk - because by now it couldn’t be called anything else - stretched wider, a gaping maw, revealing rows and rows of glimmering teeth, literally stretching from ear to ear, lips gone, just an endless chasm of darkness and mouth and teeth.

His twisting nest of hair reached out, each strand a shadow clawing for freedom from this puny mortal form, lashing at the floor, the walls and the ceiling, nails long and pointed, no, not nails, these could only be _claws_ that grew from the boy, skin the same shade as snow, and the laugh, oh, the _laugh_—

It was a laugh that spoke of the underworld, of terrible things to come, of Hell to pay for those who wronged him, one laced with a poisonous, dangerous, tantalising darkness, burning through the light and calling those to his side, but who was he anymore, really? Certainly not human. That laugh sang of pain and power and death, of torture and blood and entrails spilling onto the ground, of screams and sobs and fear, of things that had yet to come; his laugh tauntingly reminded them of judgement day and the horrors that would be there.

Black ink coiled around what once were fingertips, cracks spreading across the floor, windows shattering and ceiling falling in, the building disappearing, crunching down on itself, collapsing, and the tar-like substance pooling around this demon that dared stand in the ruins of a once-beautiful place, in amongst the dust and stone that dripped with ebony oil and smelt of fear, tension so sharp in the air you could cut it with a knife.

And in the midst of it all, stood that demon that once was a boy called Harry Potter.


End file.
